


Degrees of Separation

by naughtical_nbd



Series: Naughtical Requests [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Beholding-Style Voyeurism, Conjugal Visits, Gags, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, M/M, Martin Tops, Martin's Sexy Briefcase of BDSM Delights, Mean Dom Alert, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Prison Sex, Strap-Ons, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Martin Blackwood, Verbal Abuse, Vibrators, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 19:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtical_nbd/pseuds/naughtical_nbd
Summary: Anon requested: "MartinElias, dom Martin, using vibrators on Elias before fucking him 👁 (trans Elias appreciated but optional)."Elias gets a conjugal visit in prison. Set in a sort of nebulous post-Unknowing AU.
Relationships: + allusions to, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: Naughtical Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538620
Comments: 5
Kudos: 159





	Degrees of Separation

**Author's Note:**

> Anon requested: "MartinElias, dom Martin, using vibrators on Elias before fucking him 👁 (trans Elias appreciated but optional)." Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> As far as my own personal tastes go, it's kind of hard for me to see Martin/Elias not involving their shared fixation on Jon in some capacity, so I ended up involving the Archivist indirectly. This is my first time writing hard kink and also my first time even seriously entertaining Martin/Elias as a concept, so... please be gentle. 
> 
> Trans equipment described vaguely; "cock" and "hole" are the only terms employed.

“Ugh, Christ,” Martin says, the note of contempt in his voice audible. “Are you _ really _ gonna come again?” 

Elias can’t answer him, desire notwithstanding, because one of the first things Martin did after locking the door was clip a gag onto him. “Last thing I need is to listen to you drawling on about whatever nonsense it is this month,” he’d said, pressing his mouth into a thin, displeased line as he yanked the strap tight behind Elias’ head. Elias hadn’t been in a position to protest. Now, if possible, he’s in even less of one, bent over the table in the visitor’s room, his handcuffed wrists strapped to one of the table legs so he’s forced to lean down over it, legs spread for purchase.   
  
Martin has taken down his prison-issue trousers, but not his pants, in favor of shoving a truly industrial strength vibrator down the front of them. This is maybe the third time it’s brought Elias to the point of release, although it could be the fourth. In his defense it’s hard to think straight, with no relief from the powerful, incessant vibration; the first time it had felt heavenly, an orgasm crashing over him within minutes after twenty-eight days of no conjugal visits, humping his pillow irritably, getting bored of his own hands. But Martin had turned it up, afterward, and now it’s verging on painful when the blunt curve of it presses against his cock, a dull electric shock to the nerves. 

He’s still going to come again. Martin scoffs from behind him, apparently able to read the signs by now, and my, if that doesn’t send a spark of pleasure up Elias’ spine, that his reactions are being mapped and recorded. 

“Fine, get it over with, then,” Martin sighs, and then there’s a hand on his ass, shoving him cruelly down and trapping the vibrator between the metal surface of the table and Elias, no room for him to squirm away. The toy is hot, both from how long it’s spent jammed down the front of his underwear and for how long it’s been on and buzzing; the curl of rapture feels almost like burning, when it happens. 

There is still a heat winding dully through Elias when he’s spent, the ache of overstimulation nearly overwhelming him until he registers the rustle of clothes behind him, the soft clink of a belt. Martin yanks Elias’ pants down with bored efficiency, and as painful as the vibrator was starting to become, it’s almost more jarring when he switches it off and tosses it back into his briefcase. Elias cranes his neck to look as far over his shoulder as his body will allow, only to get a blurry glimpse of Martin adjusting the straps of his harness before he forces Elias to face forward, jerking him by a fistful of his hair. “You’re _ not _ the one watching this time, I’m afraid,” snaps Martin, and Elias can feel the cool silicone head of his cock pressing up against his hole, strangely soothing after the growing warmth of earlier. The noise he makes when Martin thrusts into him roughly, all at once, is swallowed by the gag. 

“You’d better be grateful,” Martin says, bracing one dispassionate hand between Elias’ shoulderblades as he sets a fast, rough pace. “I wouldn’t even be here, if _ he _ didn’t like to see you debased like this.” And Elias can feel it, now, the prickle of his Archivist’s eyes on him, the soft whirr of a tape recorder that he sensed more than heard switch itself on. 

“I’d honestly rather you rot in here,” Martin continues, sounding only barely out of breath even though he’s still fucking Elias with an unrelenting and brutal rhythm. “Stew in your own frustration, but, this is workable. At least you take the punishment well.” 

Elias mumbles through the gag, twists under Martin’s weight until he slows his movements. “What?” He demands, leaning forward to pin him down, digging a finger under the strap of the gag and jerking Elias’ head back mercilessly. “What, you have something to say? What could you _ possibly _ have to add of any consequence, Elias.” 

“Martin,” he tries to say reverently around the gag, because he is _ so _ utterly impressed, but it comes out completely bastardized, unintelligible. 

“Oh, is that a thank you?” Martin tugs the strap again, yanking uncomfortably at the corners of Elias’ mouth. “I see. I suppose I could let you say _ that _ much. You ought to be thanking us for this, for not throwing you to the wolves in here. We could still do that, you know. If you ever get the idea in your head to misbehave.” He pops the clip of the gag, and Elias spits it out unceremoniously, coughing. It clatters off the edge of the table and onto the concrete floor. 

Without warning, Martin leans back and cracks him one harsh slap on the ass, making him shout hoarsely, a sound that echoes around the barren chamber of the room. “What do you say?” 

“Thank you,” Elias croaks, feeling the prickling hum of the Archivist’s gaze, the jolt and twist of pleasure as Martin snaps his hips forward again, picking up where he left off. “Thank you, thank you- Oh-” 

“Are you going to come _ again? _” asks Martin incredulously, sounding genuinely out of breath by now. “God, you’re totally depraved.” 

Elias just groans as Martin digs his fingers into his hips and fucks him harder, but through the haze of it all there is something probing at him, creeping up from the back of his mind, and the need to know floods his body exquisitely, almost stronger than any climax he could reach like this. “Are you-” He’s rammed against the table, the breath knocked from him momentarily, but he persists. “Are you this rough with Jon, too?” 

Martin doesn’t falter the way he expects; instead, he reaches down to press his fingers against Elias’ cock, still tender, making him hiss. Still, with that firm, unrelenting pressure, Elias can feel himself fast approaching another precipice, his breath coming uneven. Martin leans down over him again, pressing him forcefully against the table. “If you must know,” he says, and Elias is thrilled to hear that he sounds strained, too, close to finishing himself. “If you’re that desperate to hear it- I’m not. I worship him, really.” 

_ “Oh,” _ Elias gasps, clenching joyously around Martin’s cock- Only to have it rudely withdrawn, right along with Martin’s hand on him, and any other point of contact they had. Elias is left shaking and empty, his climax shocked into ruin. He practically howls in frustration, now that the gag is gone. “ _ Martin _-”

Martin snorts from behind him, unimpressed. “I _ told _ you to behave yourself. Don’t talk,” he adds, as Elias opens his mouth in indignation. “You’ll only make it worse.” There are the sounds of a zipper done up, a belt replaced, the thunk of Martin packing supplies back into his briefcase. 

When he comes around the side of the table to retrieve the gag, he looks flushed, satisfied, even though he must not have finished properly either, and that burns Elias more than anything else possibly could have. Martin reaches out and pats Elias’ cheek with a patronizing little smirk. “See you next month, I suppose. If you’re lucky.” 

Then he’s gone, the briefcase clicking shut, then the door as his footsteps retreat into the hall, leaving the guards to come clean up after him. It is not, however, until Elias drops his head onto the table, muffling a curse into his own sweaty, aching shoulder, that the tape finally shuts off.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me over at my [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/naughtical_nbd) if you enjoyed this one! Feedback always appreciated, and I'm now open for these requests. Let me know if there's a tag or warning I missed.


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